


Cover Ups

by StupidGenius



Series: Life is Pain, highness [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, He kind of is, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Tattooed Stiles, for all Stiles says he's not a damsel, he gets better tho I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you Stiles, but I felt like I was making you a mug of cavities.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear anything after ‘I love you Stiles you’re amazing.’”</p>
<p>“I never said that last part.” Derek paused. “I was thinking it though.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Ups

He was just healed enough that he didn’t have to think too much about his movements. He didn’t have to worry about moving his torso wrong and pulling a stitch. Didn’t have to think about mow high he could lift his arm before the stab wound on his shoulder reopened. Didn’t have to worry about his palms brushing against a surface. But now that that was all over, new worries replaced them.

Stiles couldn’t look at himself in the mirror for too long. He’d never had body image issues before, but now… he hated how he looked. The scars on his torso. The ones on his back.  They were ugly, raised, angry scars, and they brought back every memory he tried to repress. It was enough that he saw them in his dreams.

He watched Derek pad across the kitchen, hoping he didn’t smell too much like sadness. He wasn’t ready to talk about that yet.

“Coffee?” Derek wondered.

“Do you even have to ask?” Stiles muttered, propping his head up on his hands.

“I didn’t think so, but apparently I do, since you declined coffee the whole first week back.” Derek turned around once he turned on the coffee maker and leaned over the counter, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah.” Stiles whispered. Derek frowned.

“Did you have another nightmare? You know you’re supposed to wake me up if I’m not already-”

“No. No.” he shook his head. “I’m good. Really.” _For now._

“You sure?’ Derek cupped his jaw. Stiles closed his eyes.

“I’ll get there.” He answered honestly. Derek kissed his temple, and then the smell off coffee filled his nose. He opened his eyes to find Derek smirking at him with a mug of coffee. Stiles smiled back, taking a sip and- “Yes. Perfect.”

“I love you Stiles, but I felt like I was making you a mug of cavities.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear anything after ‘I love you Stiles you’re amazing.’”

“I never said that last part.” Derek paused. “I was thinking it though.”

“Ugh.” Cora stomped down the stairs (she was not a morning person). “Can you two take you’re sickeningly sweet conversation somewhere else? This is not a good morning.” She grumbled, plopping down on the stool next to Stiles. He continued to drink his coffee, raising an eyebrow at Derek. _Explain._

“It’s, uh…that time…” Derek looked very uncomfortable. Cora, on the other hand, just rolled her eyes.

“That time of the month? Is that what you were going to say, big brother?”

“The moon’s not-” _Cora is a woman_. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” She got up with a huff, and Stiles caught sight of a thick black swirl peaking over the top of her sweat pants.

“You have a tattoo?” he wondered. Cora glanced down, like she’d forgotten she had it.

“Yeah. It’s the triskelion. Hale family mark. Laura had one too, and mom and dad. Peter’s might of burned off in the fire, but he had one.” She shrugged. “Every pack has a mark.” Stiles didn’t know why he suddenly felt like an outsider. _I don’t have that tattoo. They haven’t asked me to get one. Does this mean I’m not pack? Am I supposed to ask?_ “You okay?” Cora frowned.

“Huh?” He looked up from the spot on the counter he’d been staring at. The Hale siblings were throwing him matching looks of concern. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Well.” Cora said after a while. “I’m going out with some friends, so… try not to make the loft smell too much like sex.” Derek glared at her as She went back to her room to change.

“She didn’t say we couldn’t do it at all.” Stiles whispered.

Derek choked on his coffee.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles’ kisses were different now. Gentler, more hesitant. Every time Derek kissed him, he gasped like he was surprised someone would ever want to. And it was killing him. Because how could he show him that of course Derek wants to kiss him? Words were never his strong point. Sex…sex, he could do. But he wasn’t sure Stiles would want to right now.

“I can’t do this.” Stiles whispered, pushing back. They broke apart, and the teacher leaned back a bit.

“You can’t…kiss me?”

“No.” he bit his lip. “No -I mean- yes. I can kiss you. I can do that. I meant…” he looked down at Derek’s stomach instead of meeting his eyes.  “How does this not bother you?” He asked quietly.

“Stiles, what are you talking about?”

“This!” He looked up suddenly, eyes wide. “Look at me! I’m…I’m a walking scar, for Christ’s sake. How does that not bother you? How do you even…” he trailed off and just seemed to…deflate. He fell forward, face buried between Derek’s neck and shoulder.

“It does bother me.” He admitted. The salty scent of tears filled the air. “Hey, no.” He put his hand under Stiles’ chin, trying to get him to look up. “I didn’t mean… It bothers me because I know I could have stopped it, okay? Not because of how you look, god Stiles. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful.” Stiles let out a weak laugh.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yes.” The younger man finally met his gaze, cheeks wet with tears. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m not.” Stiles sighed.

“You can say you aren’t all you like. But just know that I think you’re pretty great.”

“’Pretty great.’” He rolled his eyes and smiled a little.

“You’re all the good adjectives.” That earned him another laugh.

“That’s a new one.” He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, looking thoughtful for a moment. Nervousness shot through their bond, and Derek raised an eyebrow. “I, um…I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“I want a tattoo.” He said it in a rush, so it sounded like one word. Derek blinked at him.

“You hate needles.”

“Yeah, but, I’d put up with them for this one.” Stiles paused. “If you’ll let me.”

“What-”

“I want a triskelion.” He blurted. “O-on my back. If that’s okay?” He wondered.

Derek blinked at him. Sties wanted to mark himself as part of the Hale pack. He wanted to mark himself as _Derek’s_. Permanently. _Holy shit yes of course it’s okay._ Stiles seemed to be taking his silence the wrong way, judging by the way his face fell. “I-I mean I don’t have to, or-”

“Yes. Yes, or course you can.” Derek assured him. The pale man beamed at him.

“Really?”

“Yes. Stiles, you’re pack. You’re more than that. You’re my boyfriend. My _mate_. Why did you think I would have a problem with it?”

“I don’t…Cora said it was a Hale family thing, and you guys didn’t ask if I wanted one, so I…I don’t know.”

“You are family.” He pulled him closer, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Der-bear.”

“ _Stiles_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles hadn’t considered the part where he’d have to take his shirt off. In public. That was almost as bad as the thought of the needles that would be stuck repeatedly into his soft flesh. Everyone would see the scars. And Derek had told him it would be fine, that no one would care, that he’d ‘kill anyone who looks at you wrong, okay?’ but it wasn’t okay. He was still nervous. So nervous.

“Relax.” Derek whispered, sitting across from him. Stiles was sitting with his chest pressed against the back of the chair, so that his back faced the artist. Derek was holding both his hands. “I’ll pull the pain. You won’t feel anything.”

“I’ll hear it.” he whimpered. “I’ll imagine it.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”  
“I want to.” Stiles shook his head. “I just…don’t like who it has to be done.” Derek smiled at him.

“Alright Mr. Stilinski, you ready?” The woman asked (she had yet to comment on the thick raised scars on his shoulder blades. Stiles was grateful).

“Okay.” He whispered. Then, louder; “Okay. I’m ready.”

The sound disturbed him, because he could vividly picture what the needle looked like against his skin, and it wasn’t a very comforting image. But Derek was there, pulling the pain like he promised and talking about Laura to distract him. He didn’t even notice when the artist finished.

“So is this like a family thing or something?” She asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Yeah. All our family members had it.” Derek told her, helping Stiles up. “It looks great.”

“Thanks!” She grinned. “You guys are really cute by the way.” She added. Stiles smiled, threading his fingers through Derek’s. The werewolf beamed down at him, and _yeah_. Stiles thought. _The pain’ll be worth it._


End file.
